


in a gentle way (shake the world)

by wekeepeachotherhuman



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Bodhi Rook - Freeform, Cassian Andor - Freeform, Cooking, Gen, Mentions of Rogue One, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 01:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8947708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wekeepeachotherhuman/pseuds/wekeepeachotherhuman
Summary: Finn doesn't believe that what he's done is as groundbreaking as it is. Recalling past moments in the Rebellion's history, Poe assures him that Finn's changed his world simply by existing.





	

Whatever Poe’s cooking smells fantastic. Finn can’t remember the name of the dish. It’s a word from a language somewhat close to the Basic Finn knows, but not close enough for Finn to understand. When Poe says it, it rolls off his tongue, he smiles around the sounds, like they give him comfort and nostalgia. 

Finn leans in closer, taking in the smell of the spices and cheese Poe had used. At first, he’d been trying to keep track of it all, wanting to commit it to memory, in case he wanted to make it again. But he’d given up on that because judging by the way this stuff smelt, Poe made it better than Finn ever could. If he ends up liking it, well, they’ll just have to do this again. And Finn would have no complaints there. 

“This is usually sort of a breakfast thing,” Poe explains to him, shrugging. The pan sizzles. Poe lifts what’s in it to check the colour on the bottom. It’s a crisp brown. And that must be a good thing because Poe smiles and reaches out to turn to the hotplate off. “But breakfast for dinner ain’t half bad.” He turns to look at Finn, smiling, relishing just how ready Finn is to dig in. 

Poe starts to plate them, so Finn tears himself away long enough to get them each a cup of water and a set of cutlery (all of which they’d taken from the mess hall inconspicuously every time one of them went in there). Poe turns, a plate in each hand, and smiles at the little scene that meets him: Finn huddled close to the nighttable-turned-dinnertable for the night, with a burning candle in the middle. The candle had a very definite “Poe Dameron feel” to it, but it had actually been Finn’s idea, wordlessly placing it there and Poe hadn’t said anything to make him feel like it maybe shouldn’t be there, considering this wasn’t supposed to be a  _ date _ . 

Poe gets butterflies when he even thinks that word:  _ date _ . Especially when it’s even remotely related to Finn. He feels himself start to blush and thanks the gods that he’s just spent that last half hour hovering over a hotplate so looking flushed won’t seem so strange. Finn smiles up at him, fondly and  _ seemingly _ completely oblivious to the fact that what they’re currently doing is a date.  _ This is a date _ . 

“My Dad used to make these for me all the time,” Poe starts, mostly just to distract himself from the way his stomach is tossing and turning with nerves. And then he hears himself starting to ramble, not catching any of the words he’s saying before they come tumbling out. “One time,” he starts, sitting down next to Finn and unconsciously shuffling his chair closer. “My Dad met Cassian Andor in a cantina on Yavin IV. And, I don’t know how, but they got to talking about chilaquiles, you know, how they make them, what they use.” Poe laughs lightly at the memory and that makes Finn smile. He’s endeared, though Poe’s pretty sure he’s just being polite by not asking him to shut the hell up. “Now, Cassian was from Fest, so he made his a little differently. And he told my Dad that he had to start slow-cooking the meat, you know, so it sorta falls apart, and ugh…” And what, Dameron? Where the hell was he going with this? He struggles to find a point, if only to just quit kriffing talking. “And so my Dad started slow-cooking just, ugh, just because Cassian Andor told him to one time in a cantina…” He laughs weakly as the story ends flat. 

Finn’s still smiling, but he suddenly pulls his eyebrows together, like he’s missing something. He’s not really missing anything, he’d just heard the most pointless story in the history of the galaxy, is all. Then both he and Finn start talking at the same time:

“Sorry,” Poe says, shaking his head at himself. 

But Finn’s voice is stronger.

“Why does it matter how  _ Cassian Andor _ cooks his food?” 

He says Cassian’s name as though it means nothing and Poe very quickly realizes that it probably does. And that gives Poe pause. Poe had learned the story of  _ Rogue One _ when he’d just been a kid, from his parents; his Dad mostly. His mother didn’t talk about the war much, but his father did. Especially if he was praising other people, and he had a lot to offer in terms of praise for the fighters in  _ Rogue One. _ He’d learned it at school too, not much later. It shouldn’t be such a surprise that planets that were loyal to the Republic and the Resistance learned about the Galactic Civil War differently than those loyal to the First Order, or, especially moreso, the people  _ raised _ in the First Order. Like Finn. 

“They didn’t teach you about the first Death Star?” Poe asks, treading lightly. “How the rebels found the blueprints?”

“Of course they did,” Finn answers. “Galen Erso betrayed the First Order. He left a weakness in the Death Star knowing that the Rebellion would exploit it.”

“And the spies that took the plans from Scarif,” Poe continues, but he pauses when Finn starts to shake his head. 

“They never taught us their names,” he explains. “They didn’t say it, but learning their names made them too…  _ real _ . I guess.”

Poe nods. “But they taught you about Galen Erso.”

Finn stiffens, but he nods. “They wanted to make sure we all knew what happened to the people who turned against the Empire.” Finn goes a little quiet, keeps his eyes down and then adds: “That they would all die.” And Poe feels a sort of rage bubble up inside of him. He can see the weight of statement on Finn. He knows full-well that all those things he’d been taught about defectors and traitors, that was what every last person he’d grown up with thought of with him now too. To the First Order, he was less than the scum they called the Resistance. But Finn is so much more than that. And Poe needs him to know that. He’ll tell him that every day if he has to. 

“Not before they have the chance to make a difference,” Poe says defiantly. He leans forward, trying to get into Finn’s line of sight. 

Finn looks up at him and smiles meekly. “I’m not Galen Erso,” he says. The  _ implied _ ‘I’m not important enough’, goes unsaid, but all Poe knows is he has to steal that thought right out of thin air. 

“What about Bodhi Rook?” he asks. He sounds sterner than he means to. “Did they teach you about him?” Finn minutely shakes his head. “He wasn’t  _ Galen Erso _ either.” Finn sits up a little straighter, leans forward. “He was just a long-haul freighter pilot. He defected from the Empire and brought the Rebellion Erso’s message. Finn, he  _ started _ everything.” Poe knows he’s talking about Bodhi Rook, but he feels it like he’s talking about Finn. “They didn’t want you to think that just anybody could make a difference, but you can.” 

Finn swallows hard and starts to nod. But he doesn’t seem to fully believe it. Poe reached out and touches his shoulder. Finn looks up at them and their eyes meet. The butterflies in Poe’s stomach are replaced with something else, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. 

“The Rebellion was full of people like you, Finn,” he continues. “You think anybody cares about what you did before you were here? Finn, all they care about is that you’re doing the right thing  _ now _ . You’re making a difference  _ now _ .” Poe smiles, picturing the future that Finn’s difference will make. “They’re gonna write stories about you one day. Just like they tell stories about Bodhi Rook. Bodhi changed the war.” He feels like he could kiss Finn right then and there, actually aches for it, but instead just says: “And you will too.”

And hopes that that will be enough.  


End file.
